


Trade My Life for Something New

by enigmaticblue



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Trope Bingo Round 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:04:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two men on the run find each other—but that’s neither the beginning nor the end of the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trade My Life for Something New

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hc_bingo prompt “loss of job/income” and the trope_bingo prompt “reunion” and title from the Linkin Park song, "Waiting for the End."

Tony pulls his jacket a little closer and tucks his hands deep into his pockets, standing uncertainly outside the small café. He resists the urge to make sure that the arc reactor is hidden by the gauze he’d taped over it, plus his shirts and coat, focusing instead on the possibility of coffee. The paint on the sign out front is faded, cracked and peeling in places, but there’s a small chalkboard in the window listing the drinks and food on offer.

 

His stomach rumbles unhappily, reminding him that he hasn’t eaten yet today, and he would absolutely _kill_ for a decent cup of coffee.

 

He’s just come off a long day at the mechanic shop where he’s picked up work. It’s only temporary; Tony figures he can make enough in a couple of weeks to get him to his next destination, although he’s not sure where he’s going yet.

 

Another populated location anyway, somewhere he can disappear in the anonymity of a crowd. Luckily, the world is full of places like that.

 

Right now, though, he has a night of work ahead of him, which isn’t going to get done if he just stands there _thinking_ about coffee.

 

After another second, Tony decides that he needs coffee more than he needs food, and he steps inside the welcome warmth of the small café. The older woman behind the counter smiles warmly. “ _Buenos noches, señor_ ,” she says. “Can I get you something to drink?” she asks in rapid Spanish.

 

“ _Café, por favor_ ,” Tony replies, knowing that his accent marks him as an American—or at least as a foreigner. He’s hoping his fluency will at least win him a few points.

 

Plus, he’s banking on the fact that there are very few people who know he’s fluent in several languages, including Spanish.

 

“Would you like anything to eat?” she asks, still in Spanish.

 

Tony looks at what’s on offer and hesitates.

 

“I have fresh empanadas,” she suggests. Tony’s stomach growls as if on cue, and she grins. “You will never eat another empanada that’s as good as mine.”

 

Tony shrugs. “Yes, please.”

 

The price of a cup of coffee and a couple of empanadas is about half of what it would be in the States, which is half the reason he’d retreated to Columbia. The other half of the reason being that he’s far too recognizable in the States.

 

Between his fluency in Spanish, his full, heavy beard, and the buzz cut he’s now sporting, he hopes that no one recognizes him as Tony Stark.

 

The woman hands him a ceramic cup full of coffee and says, “I’ll bring your food to you.”

 

He’s turning to sit at one of the tiny tables when someone runs into him, sending the cup of coffee flying, crashing to the floor.

 

Tony has been doing his best to go unnoticed, and he’s grateful there are only a few people in the café, because this certainly doesn’t help. The accident causes fear and disappointment in equal measure; that cup would have been his first decent one in days, and Tony’s really fucking tired of instant.

 

He’s also pretty sure he doesn’t have the money to buy another.

 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” the other man says in English, then adds, “ _Lo siento. Puedo conprarte un café?_ ”

 

Tony’s thrown enough to answer in English. “You don’t have to.” It’s an automatic response, something he would have said when he had control of his own company, and billions of dollars at his disposal.

 

“No, I insist,” the man says in English. “I was clumsy.”

 

Tony knows he should refuse, should collect his food and escape, but he _really_ wants that cup of coffee. “Yeah, I guess. Thanks.”

 

“Don’t thank me,” he says. “It was my fault.”

 

He apologizes to the woman profusely in Spanish, but she waves him off and orders them both to sit.

 

Abruptly, Tony realizes that there’s just one table available.

 

He’s beginning to think this was not one of his best ideas.

 

“If you don’t mind, you can share my table,” the man says, and Tony meets his eyes for the first time. They’re a warm brown, and he appears a little hesitant, a little self-deprecating, and his mouth is twisted in a wry smile.

 

And Tony suddenly longs to hear his native language spoken, to have some contact with home, however fleeting. He’s a world traveler, he can speak several languages, but he misses his home in Malibu, and the ability to speak before he thinks.

 

“Thanks,” Tony replies in English. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

 

They sit down across from each other, the table so small that their knees nearly touch. The proprietress brings over Tony’s cup of coffee and a plate with three empanadas.

 

The man asks in Spanish, “What do I owe you?”

 

“Nothing,” the woman says firmly in the same language. “Accidents happen. You may return and buy more of my food, and my coffee. That will be thanks enough.”

 

“ _Gracias_ ,” the man says quietly. “I promise to return.”

 

Tony can’t make the same promise, because he’s not sure it’s safe to frequent the same café, although when he takes the first bite of empanada, he begins to rethink that stance. His groan has her cackling in satisfaction, and she gives him a maternal pat on the shoulder.

 

“Worth coming back for?” the man asks quietly, switching to English.

 

“Yeah,” Tony agrees wistfully. “You want one?”

 

“I already ate,” he says, although his lean build suggests he doesn’t eat as often as he should. “I’m Bruce, by the way.”

 

Tony hesitates, and then replies, “Eddie.”

 

His middle name isn’t well known either, although it’s not much of a secret, but Tony thinks that using a name that’s at least familiar to him will mean that he’s more likely to respond when it’s called.

 

Something in Bruce’s eyes changes, turns knowing, but he just says, “Eddie. I’m guessing you’re not from Bogotá.”

 

“My mother was,” Tony replies, and it’s an easy lie, although his mother had been Italian. Her native language hadn’t been English, anyway, and he speaks Spanish fluently enough that it’s not much of a stretch for someone to believe he grew up speaking the language.

 

It’s far enough from the truth to be safe, close enough to be plausible. Tony has learned how to ride that line over the last couple of months.

 

“You speak almost like a native,” Bruce replies.

 

Tony smirks with pleasure. “You speak like an American.”

 

Bruce shrugs. “Five years of Spanish in high school and a lot of Spanish speaking friends will only get you so far.”

 

“At least you’re fluent,” Tony replies. “It’s somewhat unusual for an ex-pat.”

 

Bruce smiles. “I’m an unusual ex-pat.”

 

Tony doesn’t ask any questions because he’s unwilling to answer them. “What do you do here?” he asks, thinking it’s a safe enough question.

 

“I work as a maintenance guy,” Bruce replies.

 

Tony smiles. “I’m a mechanic.”

 

“You like cars, then?” Bruce asks with a wry twist of his mouth.

 

Tony thinks of the cars he had—maybe still has, depending on what Obadiah and Pepper did with his stuff—and he misses them. He misses driving something that isn’t half-rust. Or driving at all right now.

 

“Yeah,” Tony replies. “I miss driving.”

 

“I don’t so much,” Bruce admits, sounding a little tentative. “There are other things I miss.”

 

That’s the first indication Tony has had that Bruce might not be in Columbia just because he wants to take in the culture, or is looking for a change in scenery. “Like what?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce shrugs. “Cheap hamburgers from In-N-Out, actually.”

 

Tony grins. “Burger King was my poison.”

 

Bruce snorts and grimaces. “Philistine.”

 

Tony laughs for what feels like the first time in weeks. “Heathen.”

 

“That’s what you’ve got?” Bruce asks. “You might as well call me an atheist.”

 

“It almost means the same thing,” Tony protests.

 

“That’s like saying iron is the same thing as ferrous,” Bruce says, and Tony doesn’t know if he’s teasing or not.

 

“Iron _is_ the same thing as ferrous,” Tony replies.

 

Bruce lifts an eyebrow. “Okay then, it’s like saying the Planck constant is a measure between energy and matter.”

 

“The Planck constant is the relation between the energy and frequency of its electromagnetic wave,” Tony says automatically, and then silently curses himself for giving too much away.

 

He can’t just go around correcting people when they get scientific facts wrong.

 

Bruce laughs, looking sheepish. “No, you’re right. It’s been a long time since I took physics. My brain must be atrophying.”

 

Tony blinks. The Planck constant is a little advanced for an introductory physics course in undergrad, and he can’t help but think that Bruce’s seemingly off-hand comment was something of a test. “Somehow, I doubt that,” Tony replies.

 

Bruce grins. “Yeah, well. Guy has to be careful, right?”

 

“I guess so,” Tony replies, thinking that maybe he ought to be a little more careful. “Look, I should—”

 

“I don’t want any trouble,” Bruce says in a low voice. “I don’t want to get _you_ into any trouble. It’s just…nice to speak English, right?”

 

It’s been weeks, and Tony has to admit there’s something relaxing about being with someone who can speak English, and apparently knows something about science. “Yeah, it’s nice,” Tony agrees.

 

“My undergraduate thesis was on constructive interference and visibility,” Bruce offers.

 

Tony relaxes slightly. “Funny, mine was on artificial intelligence.”

 

He leaves it at that, figuring that it’s generic enough to not give anything away. Half the mechanical engineers he knew had done their theses on AI; it’s just that none of them had anything approaching Dum-E.

 

And God, Tony misses Jarvis and Dum-E and Butterfingers and all the rest.

 

“Look, you want to meet up for coffee again sometime?” Bruce asks.

 

Tony should say no, he knows that. Not making friends or acquaintances, or any connections at all is pretty much Fugitive 101.

 

But he’s missed this—he’s missed his workshop, and having infinite resources at his disposal.

 

Hell, Tony has missed Yinsen, who hadn’t quite been Tony’s equal, but had at least been able to keep up.

 

He’s only going to be here another couple of weeks before moving on, and Bruce won’t know where he’s going. Tony thinks he might be able to have this—a moment of connection—before he has to move on again.

 

“Yeah, why not?” Tony asks. “That would be good.”

 

~~~~~

 

Bruce suggests a different café for their next meeting, although in the same district, and Tony wonders if that’s where Bruce lives, or if it’s where he works, or both. He knows better than to ask, though.

 

He spends the next couple of nights working on his own side projects. Materials have been hard to come by—even harder than in Afghanistan, where the terrorists had seemed to have an unlimited supply of his weapons—but he’s working on a way to channel the power from the arc reactor.

 

Tony might not be able to build another suit of armor—not right now anyway—but he can ensure that he has a means of defending himself if someone comes for him.

 

At least, he would if he could find the parts.

 

Meeting Bruce gives him an excuse to take a break, and given his current level of frustration, that’s probably a good thing.

 

Bruce is waiting for him outside, wearing a canvas jacket that hangs on him and a white t-shirt. He looks good, and Tony notices the breadth of his shoulders, and his windblown curls.

 

Tony also notices that he looks tired, like he’s been burning the midnight oil, and he wonders what Bruce has been working on.

 

“Hey, Eddie,” Bruce says with a warm smile, and Tony is used to the name enough by now that he doesn’t have to repress the urge to look over his shoulder to see who Bruce is talking to. “I wasn’t sure you’d show up.”

 

Tony shrugs. “I needed a break.”

 

“Same here,” Bruce admits. “I’m buying.”

 

The café is crowded, with every table occupied, and after Bruce pays for their drinks, they head back outside. Tony wants food as much as coffee, but what’s on offer seems to be priced a little high, and doesn’t look all that fresh.

 

“There are a couple of food vendors near here,” Bruce says in an undertone as he hands Tony his to-go cup. “If you don’t mind street food.”

 

It’s been a long time since someone has taken Tony out; he’s used to being the one picking up the check, but he doesn’t mind. “I don’t,” Tony says. “Best food in the city.”

 

Bruce smiles. “Cheapest, too, unless you’re cooking for yourself.”

 

Tony thinks about the hot plate in his tiny, rented room. “Yeah, I don’t see that happening any time soon. I burn water.”

 

“I learned how to cook from my mom,” Bruce admits. “I can at least avoid burning water, and it usually turns out edible.”

 

In another lifetime, Tony would have suggested Bruce prove it and cook for him sometime, but he’s not sure whether that’s out of bounds. He can’t invite Bruce to his place, and if Bruce is on the run from someone or something, it makes sense that Tony not know where Bruce is staying either.

 

“My parents never took the time to teach me how to cook,” Tony replies, thinking that it’s close enough to being true to sound good.

 

Bruce gives him a strange look, but says, “You should come over some time. I’ll give you a lesson.”

 

Tony wonders if he’s being hit on, and dismisses the idea, although he can’t say he minds. It’s just that he can’t see sleeping with anybody he doesn’t trust right now, and Tony knows he can’t trust anybody, no matter how much he wants to.

 

“I hope you’re a good teacher,” Tony replies, because that seems the safest response.

 

Bruce grins. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

 

He leads the way to a man on a bicycle with a charcoal grill attached to the front. He’s selling _arepas_ with a variety of fillings and sauces, and Bruce orders for both of them, and the vendor passes over their orders in paper trays with a cheerful, _“Buenos noches, señores!_ ”

 

“ _Gracias_ ,” Bruce says, juggling his dinner and coffee cup.

 

They find a bench and eat their _arepas_ and drink their coffee in companionable silence. The air is a little too cool once they’re not moving, but the hot coffee and the hot food take the chill off.

 

“Any interesting cars lately?” Bruce asks.

 

Tony shrugs. “Not so you’d notice. A lot of four-door sedans with bad brakes.”

 

Bruce laughs. “Yeah, I guess so.”

 

“What about you?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce glances at him. “Just fixing stuff—fried electrical circuits, stalled conveyer belts, the usual. I’m good with my hands.”

 

From another person, that might have been a come on. From Bruce, Tony isn’t sure. “Is that right?”

 

Bruce laughs. “Yeah, at least under the right circumstances.”

 

There are so many ways Tony could respond to that, but he refrains. His self-control is fairly impressive at this point; Pepper would be proud.

 

“Do you want to meet again?” Tony asks as they both lick the last of the juices off their fingers.

 

“I’d like that,” Bruce admits with a sideways glance. “Same place as last time?”

 

“Two days from now?”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Bruce agrees. “We did promise, after all.”

 

“I think _you_ promised,” Tony replies. “But sure. The empanadas are to die for.”

 

“I’ll let you buy next time,” Bruce promises.

 

Tony hesitates, then says, “It’s a date.”

 

Bruce just smiles. “Okay then.”

 

~~~~~

 

Over the next couple of days, Tony finds himself looking forward to his next meeting with Bruce with an anticipation that is probably out of all proportion to just a meeting with a—well, Tony’s not sure they’re friends.

 

Friendship is dangerous, for both of them. Tony had deliberately not told Pepper or Rhodey where he was going, or where he is now, thinking that they can’t tell Obadiah what they don’t know, and the government couldn’t come after them either.

 

Of course, that also means he can’t ask them to send money or parts or anything else, and right now, he’s missing a component for his repulsors. He’d like a jet pack, too, but without the whole suit of armor, he doesn’t think it’s going to do him much good.

 

But right now, nothing is going to get done, because he can’t find the materials he needs to focus the power from the arc reactor into an effective weapon.

 

“Eduardo!” Guillermo calls at the end of the day. “Come get your pay.”

 

Tony gets paid in cash—less than what he’d make if he wasn’t getting paid under the table, but enough to keep him going for a while. “ _Gracias_ ,” Tony says.

 

“You staying another week?” Guillermo asks in rapid fire Spanish.

 

Tony nods. “Possibly two.”

 

“You do good work,” Guillermo admits grudgingly. “You have a job as long as you’re here.”

 

“Thank you,” Tony replies, feeling a flash of pride. Pepper would probably laugh her ass off at the idea of him holding down a job, and feeling satisfied at getting his meager pay.

 

On the other hand, Tony looks at it as proof that he _can_ survive on his own, even if he still doesn’t know his own social security number.

 

That small success takes the sting out of his continued inability to get the parts he needs, as does the knowledge that he has the next day off, and the upcoming meeting with Bruce.

 

The evening air is cold enough that Tony pulls a wool hat on and buttons his coat up, walking briskly toward the café. The setting sun limns the streets and buildings with gold as the cars putter along past him, and those on bikes dodge pedestrians and street traffic alike.

 

Tony feels strangely alone and disconnected; no one gives him a second look, and as far as he knows, no one has recognized him to date. Tony doesn’t think he’s ever been this anonymous. Even as a child, his picture had been splashed across the front of magazines and newspapers. He’d grown up in the spotlight, and now he’s keeping to the shadows.

 

The café is warm and bustling when Tony arrives, and he orders a cup of coffee and snags one of the few remaining tables. He leaves his hat on for the additional layer of disguise it offers, and watches the other patrons, partly for the pleasure of people watching, partly because keeping his eyes open is important to his survival.

 

Bruce enters about five minutes later, spotting Tony immediately and making his way over to Tony’s table. “Sorry I’m late,” he says. “I got caught up at work.”

 

“No problem,” Tony replies easily. “What can I get you?”

 

“Whatever you’re having is fine,” Bruce replies.

 

They talk idly about the latest tech news and then somewhat surprisingly wind up in a heated discussion about the new Large Hadron Collider and the most recent hiccup in its construction, and whether it will live up to its promise.

 

“I’m telling you, we’ll see major advancements of quantum mechanics and clean energy in our lifetimes,” Tony insists. “This is a huge step forward.”

 

“You want to bet?” Bruce asks.

 

Tony narrows his eyes. “I’ll bet you a steak dinner that we have confirmation of the Higgs-Boson in the next five years.”

 

Bruce smirks. “I hope you’re prepared to lose.”

 

“What makes you such a pessimist?” Tony asks, throwing up his hands. “You have to admit that this represents an incredible opportunity.”

 

“Long experience,” Bruce replies. “And I’d call myself a realist.”

 

“You’re going to owe me dinner,” Tony says.

 

Bruce smiles. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

 

There’s something that feels good about making that bet, because it means that they’ll have to stay in contact to collect.

 

And Tony knows better, but he’s starting to get attached.

 

“I didn’t want to say anything, but you look tired,” Bruce says after a pause. “Late nights?”

 

Tony hesitates, wondering how much he can say and still be safe. “I’m working on something, but I’m not having much luck.”

 

“Anything I can help with?” Bruce asks.

 

“Not unless you can get me the part I need,” Tony replies. “I need something that’s going to focus a high energy beam, and a means to control it via muscle flexion.”

 

Bruce gives him a considering look. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

 

“Nothing,” Tony replies. “I have the day off.”

 

“You can come over and see what I’ve got,” Bruce says. “I think I have a couple of things that might do the trick.”

 

Tony knows that it’s a risk. The repulsor beam he’s building doesn’t make a lot of sense without the arc reactor, and he might be giving too much away.

 

Then again, he’s not sure how he’s going to get the parts otherwise, and his gut is telling him to trust Bruce like he’d trusted Yinsen.

 

“I promise, I won’t ask any more questions about what you’re building,” Bruce says, apparently reading Tony’s hesitation easily. “You can tell me or not, whatever you want. Just don’t ask what I’m working on.”

 

Tony raises an eyebrow. “You’re not planning on world domination, are you?”

 

“I have no interest in that kind of power,” Bruce replies with a snort. “Promise me that you’re not building a bomb.”

 

Tony wonders if he’s just being paranoid, or if he hears “again” in there somewhere, and if Bruce knows who he really is. Bruce’s expression remains neutral, however, and Tony says, “No bombs, nothing like that, I promise.”

 

“All right, then,” Bruce replies. “I’ll help you all I can.”

 

Tony can’t help but ask, “Why are you doing this?”

 

Bruce offers a rueful smile. “Because I’m trying to build up good karma, and because there were people who helped me along the way. I’m paying it forward.”

 

Again, there’s a tantalizing hint of Bruce’s past, and Tony knows his best chance for finding out what makes Bruce tick is taking him up on the invitation. “Okay,” Tony replies, feeling as though he’s taking a leap of faith.

 

“I’ll write down the address,” Bruce replies. “Come by whenever you want tomorrow. I’ll cook.”

 

Tony hesitates. “Can I bring anything?”

 

“It’s BYOB,” Bruce replies. “So whatever you want to drink.”

 

He wonders if this is the stupidest thing he’s ever done, but he doesn’t think it is. An entire day spent talking science sounds like the closest thing to heaven he’s had for a while.

 

“That sounds great,” Tony says honestly and hopes for the best.

 

~~~~~

 

It’s not until the next day that Tony realizes that Bruce could be setting him up. Tony shows up, and maybe Bruce uses the opportunity to take the arc reactor and sell it to the highest bidder; maybe he sells _Tony_ to the highest bidder.

 

Tony doesn’t really _know_ him, after all. They’ve spent a few evenings together, but Bruce could be some kind of agent, or one of Obadiah’s men, or one of the government’s men.

 

Meeting Bruce at his place is reckless, and stupid, and he should probably forget the whole thing and run.

 

But fuck if Tony isn’t tired of running, even though it hasn’t been that long—not quite six months since he’d left the states. He’s used to having someone he can count on—Pepper or Rhodey or Yinsen or _someone_.

 

He thinks about it for an hour or two and considers his options, and in the end, he opts for getting a six-pack of beer and heading for Bruce’s place.

 

Big risks equal big rewards, and Tony doesn’t think Bruce is faking his scientific know-how, or the fact that he’s not interested in harming Tony.

 

And if Tony’s gut is right, if Bruce really is on the up-and-up, then Tony will get the parts he needs to finish his repulsor beams before he has to move on to the next place. If he’s wrong, then he’ll have to think on his feet and escape, and he’ll never trust anybody again.

 

At least, that’s the bargain he strikes with himself.

 

Bruce lives in a rundown area of Bogotá that’s not the slums, but is definitely only a step or two up. There’s a colorful mural on the building across the street, though, and children kicking a soccer ball back and forth across the narrow lane, women standing on the sidewalks gossiping, men smoking on stoops.

 

There’s no sign of armed men, and everything looks absolutely normal, domestic even, so Tony climbs three flights of stairs to Bruce’s apartment and knocks sharply.

 

The door swings open, and Bruce grins. “Hey, Eddie, come on in. Did you get lunch already? I can make sandwiches.”

 

“Yeah, that would be good,” Tony says. “But you don’t have to.”

 

“I was just about to eat,” Bruce replies. “It’s just as easy to make another.”

 

Tony shrugs, relaxing slightly as Bruce put the beer in his tiny fridge. “If it’s no trouble.”

 

The sandwiches are made with thick, crusty rolls, layered with spicy pulled chicken and some kind of cabbage slaw. Tony can honestly say that it’s one of the best things he’s eaten in a while.

 

“What is in this?” Tony asks, forgetting his caution for the sheer pleasure of what he’s eating.

 

Bruce grins smugly. “I fixed my neighbor’s antenna. She made me chicken, and a pot of _ajiaco_ for tonight. Have you had it yet?”

 

“Honestly, I can barely remember to eat half the time,” Tony admits.

 

Bruce nods. “It’s harder when you’re on a tight budget. Barter is great for that if you don’t like to cook.”

 

“I’m not sure I want to get to know my neighbors,” Tony admits. “You haven’t seen them.”

 

Bruce nods and smiles. “There are some pretty tough neighborhoods around here.”

 

Tony wonders if Bruce knows where he lives, although this district has its rough areas, and Tony doesn’t have much money, so maybe it’s an obvious conclusion.

 

Then again, he’s not sure he knows what the obvious conclusion is these days.

 

“I’m not staying in Bogotá long,” Tony says. “And it was the best deal I could find that wasn’t in the slum.”

 

“Word to the wise,” Bruce says. “When the slum is all you can afford, be sure to keep a low profile.”

 

“And I don’t?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce smiles. “No, you do, but I’m just saying. It’s a good rule of thumb.”

 

“Low profile, check,” Tony says, and focuses on the rest of his sandwich. The tight knot of tension dissolves as he eats and nothing happens.

 

It’s just him and Bruce in the tiny apartment. As he relaxes, he notices other things—an ancient computer obviously cobbled together from spare parts, what looks like a centrifuge, a microscope, and some other equipment that Tony can’t quite figure out just from looking at it.

 

The important thing is that it’s makeshift, clearly scraped together from bits and pieces, and Tony knows that this isn’t something anybody could fake. Whoever Bruce is, whatever he’s running from, he’s not one of Obadiah’s men.

 

Of course, that doesn’t mean Tony can trust him; Bruce could still sell Tony out for some better equipment.

 

“I’ve collected a lot of materials over the last few months,” Bruce says after they finish their sandwiches. “You can take anything you want that I’m not using.”

 

Tony feels bold enough to ask, “What is it that you’re working on exactly?”

 

Bruce gives him a long, steady look, and Tony isn’t sure he’s going to respond until he says, “I have a rare medical condition. I’m looking for a cure.”

 

That’s all he says, and Tony knows he should let it go, but he can’t help the anxiety he feels. “You’re going to be okay, right? It’s not going to kill you?”

 

Bruce chuckles, and makes a face that’s somewhere between a grimace and a wry smile. “No, it’s not going to kill me.”

 

“Okay then,” Tony says, letting out a breath in relief. “That’s good.”

 

“I suppose it is,” Bruce replies slowly, like he’s not sure he believes it himself, but his gaze is warm, like maybe he’s glad Tony thinks his continued survival is a good thing. “Look, I think I should probably tell you something before we take this any further.”

 

Tony braces himself. “Yeah, okay.”

 

“I know,” Bruce says simply.

 

Tony feels his breath catch, and he says automatically, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“You know, I probably wouldn’t have recognized you if I hadn’t been following your exploits for the last few years,” Bruce says, his voice low and amused.

 

Tony swallows. “You’ve known all this time.”

 

“I suspected after I bumped into you. I _knew_ after about two minutes in your company," Bruce admits.

 

Tony rubs his eyes, feeling a sudden spike of fear, and Bruce quickly says, “Seriously, you’re pretty much unrecognizable. It’s just—I have the Army after me. I pay pretty close attention to who’s making weapons for them.”

 

Tony frowns. “Does this have anything to do with your medical condition?”

 

Bruce shrugs, not confirming or denying. “I worked with them, and they want something I have that I’m not willing to give them.”

 

Tony grimaces sympathetically. “Yeah, I understand that.”

 

“I know you do, which is why I told you that much,” Bruce says, and Tony wonders how much more Bruce _isn’t_ saying.

 

He’s suddenly not sure he wants to know. They might both be on the run, but there are different people chasing both of them, and it’s probably better not to know too much.

 

“I’m telling you this now so you know, and so you understand that I haven’t called anybody,” Bruce says sincerely. “You can trust me that far.”

 

“I think I can trust you a little more than that,” Tony says, and realizes that it’s true even as the words leave his mouth. “Although I don’t even know your real name.”

 

“It’s still Bruce,” he replies. “Bruce Banner. I won’t do anything that gets you in trouble—at least I’ll try. Will you tell me what you’re building?”

 

Tony shouldn’t trust him; after Obadiah, he shouldn’t trust anybody with his tech.

 

But Bruce is different; Tony had known that after their first meeting.

 

“Yeah,” Tony says, and decides to lay all his cards on the table. If Bruce has been watching the news, he’d know that Obadiah had claimed that Tony had coopted tech rightly belonging to Stark Industries and its shareholders. He might even have an idea what it is. “Let me show you.”

 

Slowly, tentatively, Tony shrugs out of his jacket, and then pulls his Henley over his head. He hasn’t let anybody see the arc reactor since Obadiah, and there’s a part of him that wonders if this is a stupid decision. Bruce could still sell him out, and maybe he could get the Army off his back with Tony and the arc reactor as a prize, but Tony figures if he’s in for a penny, he’s in for a pound.

 

Either he trusts Bruce, or he doesn’t. There’s no middle ground for him, and he pulls the gauze away from the arc reactor.

 

“Oh,” Bruce breathes, a reverent sound that goes straight to Tony’s dick, getting up to take a closer look. “That is really fucking cool.”

 

Tony preens a bit. Aside from Yinsen, he hasn’t had the acclaim of another scientist for his revolutionary technology.

 

Someday, when Tony has his company back, when he figures out how to make it in large scale, when he works out all the kinks—he’s going to win a Nobel for this.

 

He sees that knowledge reflected in Bruce’s eyes.

 

Bruce reaches out to touch, and then pulls his hand back before making contact. “May I?”

 

“Yeah, sure, do your worst,” Tony says, swallowing hard.

 

Bruce traces the edge of the arc reactor with a light touch, and then fumbles his glasses out of his shirt pocket and leans in for an even closer look. He puts a hand over the arc reactor and murmurs, “There’s no heat.”

 

“It’s arc reactor technology perfected,” Tony replies. “Well, mostly perfected. I could explain it to you, if you want.”

 

Bruce smiles. “We have all day.”

 

Tony’s a little cold, since Bruce’s apartment isn’t well heated, but he’s pretty sure the goosebumps are from Bruce’s hand rubbing his arm. It’s an innocent gesture, but Tony hasn’t been touched in so long that he can’t help reacting.

 

“I guess we do,” Tony says hoarsely.

 

Bruce’s eyes darken. “This okay?”

 

“I’d take more,” Tony replies honestly, and then Bruce’s mouth is on his, just a dry press of lips at first until Tony opens slightly, and then Bruce’s tongue traces his lips, and tangles briefly with Tony’s. “Yes,” Tony says to the unspoken question.

 

Because it’s been months, and when Bruce’s hands close around his shoulders and run down his arms, Tony feels like his skin is on fire. He lets Bruce pull him up and lead him to the tiny bedroom that’s really more of a closet, with the twin bed that’s not nearly big enough for both of them.

 

But Bruce presses Tony down onto the mattress and straddles his hips, and the bed is just wide enough for that.

 

“I don’t have any supplies,” Bruce warns. “It’s been awhile.”

 

“It’s been months,” Tony admits. “I’ll probably go off like a shot.”

 

Bruce laughs, and it’s a wry, knowing sound. “Yeah, same here. Just—if I have to stop—”

 

Tony suspects that’s another symptom of whatever mysterious medical condition Bruce has, and he says, “We stop.”

 

But they don’t stop. Tony unbuttons the cuffs of Bruce’s shirt and just enough buttons on the front so he can pull it over Bruce’s head, and then they both struggle to get their pants off without losing contact.

 

Tony gets an elbow in the side that he doesn’t expect, and he nearly clips Bruce in the nose with his forehead, but then they slot together easily. Bruce braces himself on his elbows to avoid crushing Tony—or getting his chest bruised by the arc reactor—and Tony wraps a hand around both their cocks as they rut against one another.

 

Tony comes first, spilling over his hand, and Bruce follows soon after, collapsing on one side of Tony, wedged between Tony’s body and the wall in a way that doesn’t look comfortable.

 

And Tony suddenly realizes that when he’s done one-night stands in the past, it had been one night only by his own choice, because he hadn’t wanted more.

 

He hasn’t had sex since Afghanistan, at least until now. And he doesn’t want it to be just one night. Day. Whatever.

 

Bruce has an arm slung over Tony’s waist, and he says, “There’s a bathroom down the hall if you want to shower, or we can just clean up in the sink.”

 

“What do you want?” Tony asks, because he has no script for this.

 

“I’d like you to stay for dinner,” Bruce admits. “I want you to tell me what you’re working on, if you’re comfortable with that. I want to help.”

 

“Why would you help me?” Tony asks again, because it doesn’t quite make sense to him, that Bruce would put himself at risk for Tony.

 

Bruce presses his lips to Tony’s shoulder. “You’re much less annoying in person than the tabloids would indicate.”

 

“I think you’re the first person ever to tell me that,” Tony replies, but he presses his forehead against the top of Bruce’s head. “Thanks. I needed that, I think.”

 

There are a lot of things he needs, including a shower, or at least a quick wash, but he’s content enough where he is right now.

 

He’ll take what he can get.

 

Eventually, they get cleaned up, and Tony sketches out his plans for the repulsors, explaining what he needs to make it happen.

 

“What is this going to do for you?” Bruce asks, his tone honestly curious, rather than skeptical.

 

“It’s either that or buy a gun,” Tony says. “The repulsors worked for me before in the second iteration. It’s not quite a suit, but it should buy me some time so I can escape.”

 

Bruce’s expression is nakedly envious. “And you have complete control?”

 

Tony nods. “That’s right.”

 

Bruce bends his head to study Tony’s designs. “Well, I have some of what you need, but not all of it. You need something that’s going to focus the beam and not burn out after one try, right?”

 

Tony nods. “Yeah. That’s been the hardest piece to procure.”

 

Bruce touches the drawing with his finger. “I don’t have it right now, but I think I can get you something that will work. I have a friend or two in the States.”

 

Tony frowns. “Is it safe?”

 

“As safe as we can make it,” Bruce admits. “We’re using a heavy encryption program.”

 

Tony gives him a sideways look. “How badly does the Army want you?”

 

“Pretty badly,” Bruce admits. “It’s bordering on obsession for the guy that’s chasing me.”

 

“Sucks,” Tony comments.

 

“You’re telling me,” Bruce says wryly. “I’m pretty sure you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in years.”

 

Bruce keeps his eyes firmly on the drawing in front of him, and Tony swallows his delight. Neither of them is in a place to make promises, even if Tony would keep Bruce around a long time if he could.

 

There are very few people on earth that he trusts, and none of them are here now—other than Bruce.

 

He’s not entirely sure what to say, so he responds, “Ditto.”

 

At that, Bruce glances over at him with a shy, pleased grin. “It’s going to take awhile, I’m afraid.”

 

Tony nods. “My boss said he’d keep me as long as he could, so I can stick around.”

 

It’s not safe; Tony knows that. He’d promised himself no more than two weeks in any one place, and staying longer is more dangerous.

 

But he doesn’t want to leave.

 

“If it gets too hot, take off,” Bruce advises. “You can find a way to contact me after, if it’s safe.”

 

“Can I take a look at your setup?” Tony asks. “I might be able to help make it more secure.”

 

Bruce shrugs. “Knock yourself out.”

 

Tony tinkers with Bruce’s makeshift computer for the rest of the afternoon, working in companionable silence as Bruce putters around the apartment. The computer is ancient, but no worse than what Tony had worked with in Afghanistan, and he does find some holes in Bruce’s security that he plugs.

 

The truth is, Tony doesn’t want to go back to his squalid little studio, and when Bruce says, “Hey, you want to stay the night? I know my bed’s pretty small, but—”

 

Tony interrupts him and says, “Yes, I want to stay.”

 

“Okay, good,” Bruce replies. “I’ll start heating up the _ajiaco_.”

 

And it’s easy, being there, with someone else in the background. Tony doesn’t feel quite so alone, with one other person knowing who he is. It’s like being in a universe of two.

 

He just wishes there weren’t a deadline.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony wakes up the next morning, with Bruce’s face pressed against the back of his neck, his skin sweaty from where they’re plastered together. Strangely, it’s not unpleasant, having someone that close; it’s a reminder that he’s not alone right now.

 

Bruce’s hand rests just below the arc reactor, and Tony can feel as he begins to wake up, his arm tightening around Tony’s waist, his thumb brushing the skin around the metal.

 

“Hey,” Bruce says quietly.

 

“Hey.” Tony puts his hand over Bruce’s. “You have today off, too, right?”

 

Bruce hums his agreement. “You?”

 

“Yeah. Did you have any plans?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce strokes Tony’s chest. “If you’re not busy, I wouldn’t mind spending time with you.”

 

“Yeah, that would be good,” Tony says. He doesn’t have any other plans, and he knows their time together is limited. “I don’t really have anything to work on, though.”

 

“So, we don’t work,” Bruce suggests. “Let’s play tourist. How much of Bogotá have you seen?”

 

“I’ve been here a couple of times before,” Tony admits. “But yeah, let’s do that. I doubt either of us have the money for the places I used to go.”

 

He puts on yesterday’s pants and borrows one of Bruce’s t-shirts, which fits well enough. Tony lets Bruce lead, because he honestly has no idea where he’d go. Bruce takes them to _La Candelaria_ , and then the National Museum. It’s not what Tony would have normally chosen, but it’s nice just to walk along with Bruce, looking at old architecture and quaint shops and historical artifacts.

 

Mostly, it’s a chance to spend time with Bruce, to talk about ancient stone-cutting techniques and debate ancient gold refinement. They don’t touch beyond the occasional brush of shoulders or elbows, but even that’s enough, because it’s the most normal Tony has felt in—

 

Well, it’s the most normal he’s _ever_ felt. He can’t say that it would satisfy him long-term as a lifestyle choice, but he appreciates the novelty right now.

 

Then again, there had been times before that he’d wondered what being anonymous would feel like, but those had been idle, meaningless thoughts. Now, he _needs_ to remain unrecognized and unknown, even though the desire to research arc reactor technology, to bring clean energy to the world, burns in him.

 

Obadiah’s attempt to take it, to claim it as his own, has just caused that need to be even more pressing.

 

Tony likes doing the unexpected, and he knows he can’t make weapons anymore.

 

“Hey.” Bruce touches his elbow, as they’re walking down the street, looking for a place to get dinner. “You okay? You seemed like you were on another planet.”

 

“Different world, maybe,” Tony mutters. “I don’t think I’ve done this, at least not in a long time.”

 

“Done what?” Bruce asks.

 

“Walked down the street with anybody recognizing me,” Tony says in a quiet voice. “Or walked with—”

 

He stops, because he doesn’t want to say his boyfriend and presume too much, when he has no idea what the future will bring.

 

“A friend?” Bruce suggests, as though he’s reading Tony’s thoughts.

 

Tony hitches a shoulder. “Sure.”

 

“Boyfriend?” Bruce’s voice is very quiet, and he’s definitely not looking at Tony when he says it.

 

“That, too,” Tony replies with a sense of relief.

 

They don’t talk about it beyond that, and they soon find a restaurant that serves dinner and drinks. Tony doesn’t have enough cash to get wasted, but he has enough to work up a good buzz, and the dinner is a little greasy, but good.

 

Tony tries not to think about the fact that he has work tomorrow, and therefore has to sleep in his own, much less comfortable bed—without Bruce, and that’s the key.

 

They debate one of the age-old mysteries over dinner—whether an artificial intelligence has a chance of subjugating the planet—and leave reluctantly around ten for the nearest bus stop.

 

The first bus takes them back to their district, but then they have to split up, with no more of a farewell than a brief tangling of their fingers, neither of them willing to risk drawing unwanted attention to themselves.

 

“Two days?” Bruce suggests. “My place?”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Tony agrees. “I’d have you over, but it’s pretty much a dive.”

 

Bruce smiles. “I understand. It’s fine.”

 

“Thanks,” Tony says, finding that he has no idea how to better express his gratitude.

 

“See you in a couple of days,” Bruce promises. “Come by around seven. If you don’t mind the hike, you can stay the night.”

 

“I don’t mind,” Tony replies.

 

His bus comes first, and Tony goes back to his apartment, which feels colder and emptier than before, as does his bed.

 

He tosses and turns that night, even though he probably should sleep better without a bed partner, and he goes to work in a daze. It’s probably a good thing that he could do this in his sleep, because he’d have been screwed otherwise.

 

He will only have this job as long as he can do it, and he wants to hang onto it as long as possible, or as long as it’s safe to stay here. Tony’s got to wait for Bruce to get the materials he needs, after all.

 

Tony gets dinner on the way home from a food vendor, and when he gets back to his apartment he begins sketching out improvements to the arc reactor and the suit, always in pieces, the way he’d done in Afghanistan, to keep the terrorists from knowing what his plan was.

 

When he finishes one piece, he folds it up and tucks it away, and then he starts on the next one, sipping from the glass of rum he’d poured. Rum isn’t his drink of choice, but it had been on sale, and it will get the job done.

 

Tonight, he just wants to sleep, and he sketches and works on the bottle until he’s sure he can.

 

Maybe he has a bit of a headache the next day, but he does okay, and he counts down the hours until he can see Bruce again.

 

When he gets off and takes the bus to Bruce’s place, he’s a little surprised when Bruce meets him at the door, closing it quickly behind Tony and kissing him hungrily.

 

“Two days is too long,” Bruce says on a break. “I didn’t think it would be, but it was.”

 

“Same here,” Tony agrees, kissing him again.

 

They just make out, slow and lazy because they have all night. “I’ve got food,” Bruce says eventually.

 

“Food can wait,” Tony replies decisively. “I’ve got better things to do than eat.”

 

Bruce laughs. “Won’t you need your strength?”

 

“I’ve got plenty of strength to spare,” Tony replies, and proceeds to demonstrate just that as they strip each other bare and stretch out on Bruce’s narrow bed.

 

“Can I?” Bruce asks, grabbing Tony’s ass in an unmistakable gesture.

 

Tony hasn’t been fucked in a long time, but he trusts Bruce to go slow and be gentle, so he says, “Yeah. It’s been awhile.”

 

“Just let me know if it’s not working for you,” Bruce replies, reaching under the bed for lube and condoms.

 

Tony smiles. “I’m in good hands.”

 

Bruce gives him a quick, grateful look. “I’ve got you,” he promises, and proceeds to open Tony up.

 

The initial burn and discomfort fades quickly, replaced by pleasure as Bruce found his prostate, and puts his mouth on Tony’s cock.

 

He brings Tony to the brink of orgasm again and again, until Tony’s begging him, whining, “Come _on_.”

 

“Patience,” Bruce advises with a wolfish grin.

 

“Fuck patience,” Tony replies. “Actually, why don’t you fuck _me_?”

 

Bruce isn’t so gentle after that; he finds the right angle and moves faster, harder, jacking Tony off.

 

It doesn’t take Tony long to come, as long as Bruce has been working on him, and Bruce is right behind him.

 

They collapse on the bed together, sticky with dried sweat and semen. Tony feels pleasantly sore, but satisfied, especially knowing that they’ve got the night.

 

“The parts should be here in another day or two,” Bruce says. “I asked my contact to put a rush on it.”

 

“That’s good,” Tony says, even though he’s not feeling it. Having the parts just means that any excuse he has to stick around will be gone.

 

“You should get cleaned up,” Bruce says quietly, his tone somber. “I’ll get dinner ready.”

 

Tony lies there a minute longer, and then he pulls on clothing to go down the hall to the shared bathroom.

 

He looks at himself in the mirror and murmurs, “What the hell are you doing?”

 

But he doesn’t have an answer.

 

~~~~~

 

The truth is, Tony lets down his guard. He likes Bogotá, and he doesn’t hate his job, and he has Bruce. He’s comfortable, in a way, and once the parts come in, he finishes the repulsors, which gives him peace of mind, knowing he has a means of defending himself.

 

He’s still trying to figure out how he’s going to get his company back without risking the arc reactor. He won’t go back to the States until he’s sure he won’t be met with armed men who will take it by force, or men in white coats, ready to lock him away.

 

The problem is, as it’s always been, that while he might eventually win his case, there’s a lot that can go wrong before he does, and he’s not willing to risk it.

 

But he’s not focused on that right now, because he’s grown complacent, and because he doesn’t really want to leave.

 

About a month into his relationship with Bruce, Tony is spending several nights a week at Bruce’s place. Bruce still has his own project, and Tony hasn’t pressed him for more information. They both have their secrets, after all, although Tony suspects that Bruce has a few more than he does at this point. Tony’s life is practically an open book.

 

Tonight, Tony’s supposed to meet Bruce after work at the little café where they’d first met. Tony’s thinking about improvements he could make to the arc reactor, and to the suit—when he has the resources again—so he’s not really looking around him.

 

Someone grabs his arm as he approaches the café, and Tony’s about to pull away when he realizes that it’s Bruce. “What—”

 

“Keep walking,” Bruce instructs in a low voice. “And look casual.”

 

Tony risks a quick glance around, and quickly spots the reason for Bruce’s instructions—four guys who look just a little too well dressed for this neighborhood, telltale bulges under their jackets, and discreet earpieces. He should have seen them before Bruce had to point them out.

 

He forces a smile. “Yeah, good to see you again. How was your day?”

 

“Not bad, until I spotted the goons,” Bruce says, his expression neutral. “They were asking Javi about you, but he said he had no idea what they were talking about. I slipped out the back and came to find you.”

 

“Fuck,” Tony swears. “We shouldn’t have gone back there again.”

 

Bruce squeezes his arm. “Spilled milk, and all of that. I have a place we can stay for tonight.”

 

Tony feels his heart clench. “I can’t go back to my place.”

 

“I think it’s probably unwise,” Bruce admits. “I can probably go and pick up whatever you need.”

 

Tony shakes his head. “I’m not risking you.”

 

“You live in an apartment building, and there are people coming and going all the time,” Bruce replies, leading them down an alley. “It’s safe enough.”

 

“If they’ve tied us together—” Tony objects.

 

“I can be sneaky,” Bruce insists.

 

They don’t stop to eat or get anything to drink; they just head straight for a cheap motel. Tony’s pretty sure rooms are rented by the hour, and the manager smirks at Bruce when he pays in cash.

 

The room is disgusting, and Tony’s skin crawls as he looks around at the filthy, water-stained walls, the ground-in dirt on the carpet, and the dingy blanket that’s no color in particular.

  
“Sorry, I know it’s bad, but he’s not going to remember us in an hour, and that’s the point,” Bruce explains. “Tell me what you can’t live without, and I’ll grab it if it looks clear.”

 

“There’s nothing I can’t live without,” Tony protests, because he keeps the repulsors on him at all times, even if they’re not connected. He keeps his cash on him, too, and the most crucial of his plans.

 

Half his clothes are at Bruce’s place, and he can live without them.

 

“You’re lucky that the men hunting you aren’t the sort to come in the middle of the night, and that they aren’t better at hiding themselves,” Bruce says, ignoring Tony’s response. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll get it. You shouldn’t go back on the run with nothing, not unless you have to.”

 

Bruce speaks with the voice of experience, and Tony can’t argue with him, even if he wants to keep Bruce with him. He reels off a list of things that he wants Bruce to get, including the other drawings left behind, and their locations.

 

Tony’s pretty sure that no one would be able to find them unless they knew where they are, but it’s probably best not to take that chance. Tony tells Bruce where the tools he’d painstakingly collected over the last month, too. They should all fit into a backpack, which is in his closet.

 

“Just sit tight,” Bruce advises. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

 

Tony uses the time to hook the repulsors up to the arc reactor. They’re activated by gesture, and he knows he’ll have to be careful not to accidentally shoot someone.

 

After that, there’s not much to do. The TV is broken, probably because people who rent rooms in this place aren’t interested in watching television. Tony doesn’t have a phone with him, because there hadn’t been anyone he wanted to call until Bruce, and Bruce doesn’t have a phone.

 

It’s stupid, really. Tony should have figured out how to build a phone that couldn’t be traced, that they could have used to communicate. What if something happens while Bruce is trying to get Tony’s stuff? What if Obadiah’s men know about Bruce and go after him since they can’t get to Tony?

 

There are a hundred possibilities and none of them are good. To distract himself, Tony begins designing the next big thing in phones. When he gets back to civilization, it’s going to take the world by storm.

 

He sits on the bed, because there’s nowhere else to sit, and he’s busy making notations on the scraps of paper he has on him when Bruce lets himself into the room. He has Tony’s backpack in one hand and a paper sack in the other.

 

“I brought something to eat,” Bruce says.

 

“Did you have any trouble?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce shakes his head. “I saw a couple of guys, but they were looking for you, not me.”

 

Tony nods. “Right.”

 

Bruce shifts awkwardly. “You can get some sleep if you want. I’ll keep watch.”

 

Tony glances down at the bed. “Yeah, I don’t think so. I’ll probably wind up with bedbugs or fleas or something.”

 

Bruce sits down next to him. “Best time to leave is early in the morning. You can catch a bus out of town. Do you know where you’re going?”

 

“No,” Tony admits. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead, to be honest.”

 

“Sometimes the best thing to do is just go until you find a place to stop for a while,” Bruce replies.

 

Tony looks at him, and it’s on the tip of his tongue to ask Bruce to come with him, but he can’t. Maybe it would make sense to stick together if the same people were chasing them, but staying together is just asking for trouble. It’s too dangerous.

 

“No,” Tony says quietly.

 

Bruce frowns. “No?”

 

“I’m not taking this lying down,” Tony says, standing up, turning to face Bruce. “This isn’t the end.”

 

Bruce rubs his hands on his khakis. “Tony, you can’t stay here.”

 

“I’m not talking about staying here,” Tony replies heatedly, although he keeps his voice down. There’s no sense in drawing attention to themselves, even if no one is going to notice or care. “I’m talking about putting an end to this fucking mess, for both of us.”

 

Alarm shows in Bruce’s eyes for the first time, and Tony finds it sort of amusing that he’s been so calm until now, and it’s Tony’s announcement of a plan that freaks him out. “What are you thinking about doing?” he demands.

 

“There was a super secret government agency that wanted to debrief me,” Tony says. “I’ll go to them, and I’ll get a deal for both of us.”

 

Bruce springs to his feet. “You’re crazy! How do you know they won’t just take the arc reactor and hand it over to Obadiah Stane?”

 

“I don’t, but I’m running up against a brick wall here, Bruce,” Tony replies, keeping his voice low and serious, letting Bruce see his sincerity. “To stop Obadiah, I need protection, and I need to be in the States. I can’t do that while I’m on the run.”

 

Bruce blows out a breath. “It’s risky. It’s _too_ risky.”

 

“So is running,” Tony says. “And if I tell them we’re a package deal, they’ll have to protect you, too.”

 

Bruce is already shaking his head. “You don’t know what kind of can of worms you’re opening. I told you the Army is after me. No one is going to be willing to protect me from the people who are after me.”

 

“They will if they want my help, and they’re going to want it,” Tony says quietly. “I may not be making weapons anymore, but I doubt they’ll be happy if Obadiah gets his hands on the arc reactor.”

 

Bruce frowns. “So, what? You’re going to sell yourself to the highest bidder? No one does that, Tony!”

 

Tony pauses, hearing fear and something else in Bruce’s voice, and he says, “You mean no one does that for _you_.”

 

Bruce swallows audibly and looks away, staring at the floor.

 

“I can do this,” Tony insists. “I have a lot of cards to play. It’s harder for me to hide, and I think we both know I can’t outrun them forever. Neither can you. Nobody can run forever.”

 

“I was doing a pretty good job before I met you,” Bruce mutters, but the words lack force.

 

Tony moves into Bruce’s personal space. “Oh, come on,” he wheedles. “You know you love me.”

 

“I know you’re insane,” Bruce replies, but the corner of his mouth tilts up.

 

Tony grins triumphantly. “That’s not a no.”

 

“It’s not a no,” Bruce agrees. There’s a charged moment, and then Bruce closes the distance, kissing Tony hard and hot. “You don’t have to do this.”

 

“Yes, I do, because I don’t want to lose you,” Tony replies. “This is the only way.”

 

Bruce takes a step back and runs a hand through his hair. “How are you going to do it?”

 

“I’m going to get out of town, and when I’m far enough away, I’m going to call Pepper, and let her contact the super secret agent man,” Tony says. “I’ll make them pick me up.”

 

“And then what?” Bruce asks. “What if they make you talk?”

 

Tony smirks. “If I could spend three months in a cave with a bunch of terrorists, and endure torture from them, trust me when I say I’m not going to give you up. But if you want to disappear and not tell me where you’re going because that’s safer, I won’t hold it against you.”

 

Bruce chuckles. “Fair enough.”

 

“We’ll meet two months from now,” Tony proposes. “At a predetermined place and time. If I’m not there, you’ll know it isn’t safe, and you can run again. If it’s ever safe, I’ll find you.”

 

Bruce scrubs his hands over his face. “Two months, huh?” he asks, and he sounds about as enthusiastic as Tony feels.

 

They haven’t gone more than two days without seeing each other since they’d met, and two months seems like an eternity.

 

Maybe it would be different if they’d broken up the usual way; then, they would have ended things and gone their separate ways. And maybe that will happen someday, but right now, Tony wants to stay with Bruce, and he’s willing to do just about anything to make that possible.

 

“It’ll be over before you know it,” Tony promises. “Hell, maybe you’ll forget about me.”

 

“Not possible,” Bruce replies, his voice a little hoarse, and he kisses Tony again. “If the bed weren’t so disgusting—”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Tony says, dropping to his knees. “Just—let me.”

 

Bruce sits down heavily on the bed, and Tony makes quick work of Bruce’s belt and fly, leaning in to swallow him down. Bruce makes a choked sound, resting his hand lightly on the back of Tony’s head, not pressing, just tangling his fingers in Tony’s hair.

 

Tony’s a genius, and he’s had a month to learn just what Bruce likes, and it doesn’t take long before Bruce’s hand tightens in warning.

 

Tony doesn’t stop what he’s doing, sucking just a little harder until Bruce comes down his throat, and Tony swallows, pulling back and wiping his mouth. “One for the road.”

 

“Come up here,” Bruce orders, pulling Tony up onto the bed next to him, shoving a hand down Tony’s pants.

 

Not that Tony is complaining, because Bruce is very good with his hands, his broad, callused palm working Tony’s cock expertly. He does a good job catching Tony’s semen in his free hand, making cleanup easy.

 

“I’m gonna go wash my hands,” Bruce says at the end, letting Tony tuck himself away. “And we can talk about where we’re going to meet.”

 

Tony watches him disappear into the bathroom, and he buries his face in his hands, feeling a little sick.

 

He’s putting a lot on the line right now, and it could easily go horribly wrong, no matter what he’d told Bruce.

 

But if it goes right, it will be worth it.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony insists on going to the bus station by himself, saying a brief, if fervent, farewell in the motel room. He suspects that Bruce would have tried to sneak out during the night, but they’d both stayed awake until it was time for Tony to leave.

 

Then again, maybe Tony is giving Bruce too little credit, considering that Bruce would have had to leave while Tony was sleeping and relatively defenseless.

 

Tony pulls his fingerless gloves on over the repulsors, which hides them. If necessary, he can activate the beams, and they’ll go right through the material. And then he kisses Bruce one last time in the predawn hour. “I’ll see you in two months,” he promises, his hands framing Bruce’s face. He puts everything he is behind those words, every feeling he has.

 

“See you then,” Bruce agrees, although Tony sees a hint of doubt in his expression.

 

“Do you trust me?” Tony asks, needing the reassurance, and knowing that it’s one question he hasn’t asked yet.

 

“I trust you,” Bruce says with enough confidence that Tony believes him. “Just—be careful. I’d like to see you in one piece again.”

 

“You got it,” Tony promises. “I have no intention of sacrificing myself for anyone, not even you.”

 

“Liar,” Bruce says affectionately. “You’re sacrificing yourself for me right now, so don’t even start with that.”

 

Tony shrugs. “Okay, so maybe I’d sacrifice myself for _you_. Feel special.”

 

“I do,” Bruce replies with a wry grin. “Watch your back.”

 

“I’ll do that. You, too,” Tony says, and then Bruce slips out before Tony can think of a way to delay him.

 

Tony gives Bruce a head start of a few minutes, and by the time he steps outside, Bruce is gone, and he’s left to make his way to the nearest bus station. He feels alone and exposed, in a way he hadn’t felt since leaving California.

 

And he’s scared; he’s putting his neck on the line for someone he’s only known a month, and he’s risking everything—the arc reactor, his chance at getting his company back, his freedom. But not taking the risk seems even more foolhardy, because it will mean running and hiding without Bruce by his side.

 

Tony isn’t willing to do that.

 

He has passable fake documents that identify him as someone with dual citizenship, and he has a story about traveling through South America to soak in the culture and reconnect with his mother’s roots.

 

The papers and the story get him across the border into Ecuador, which seems like a better option than Brazil, considering that he doesn’t speak Portuguese. He takes the bus all the way to Quito, which makes for a long ride, but it’s not unendurable. Once in Quito, he finds a motel within his price range—which isn’t much better than the one in Bogota—and sleeps for a few hours, although he sleeps on top of the cover in his clothes.

 

It’s around noon when he wakes, and he takes a shower, hoping that the tile isn’t crawling with any kind of foot fungus. Still, he’s relieved to get into clean clothes after a couple of days in the same dirty jeans and t-shirt.

 

He pays for another day at the motel, and then finds a place to buy a burner cell. He ensures the GPS is disabled on the phone, and then finds a café in another part of the city, far away from his motel, and he calls Pepper.

 

He’s not surprised when Pepper doesn’t answer, and he says, “It’s me. Call me back when you get this. You should have the number.”

 

That’s all he says, trusting that Pepper will recognize his voice, and he orders another cup of coffee and waits.

 

Not fifteen minutes later, the phone rings, and he hears Pepper’s voice for the first time in a few months. “Hi,” he says when he answers.

 

“Tony!” Pepper says immediately. “Where have you _been_?”

 

“Running,” Tony replies succinctly. “Pep, I need you to get in touch with that agent who wanted to debrief me. I need help, and he’s the only one who can give it to me.”

 

Pepper lets out a sound that’s pure protest. “I haven’t heard from you in months, and that’s all you’re going to say?”

 

“It’s great to hear your voice,” Tony says sincerely. “I want to come in from the cold, and I’m bringing a friend.”

 

Pepper sighs. “I’ll make the call, but I expect a real update with real news son.”

 

“Will do,” Tony promises. “Just as soon as it’s safe.”

 

“What do you want me to want me to tell him?” Pepper asks, sounding very long suffering.

 

Tony grins. “I’ve missed you.”

 

Pepper makes a choked sound that might almost be a sob. “Don’t tell me you’re getting sentimental.”

 

Tony realizes that he hasn’t even asked how she’s doing, and he says, “I can’t keep you long, because I don’t want to risk it, but how are you?”

 

Pepper lets out a little laugh. “I’m okay. I’ve been trying to get some dirt on Obadiah.”

 

“Any luck?” Tony asks.

 

“A few things,” Pepper admits, “but not enough, not yet. I have to admit, I’ve been talking to Phil quite a bit.”

 

Tony feels his eyebrows going up. “Phil?”

 

“Agent Coulson,” Pepper replies. “How should he get in touch with you?”

 

“I’ll call you tomorrow at the same time,” Tony promises. “You can conference him in if he’s willing to deal.”

 

Pepper makes a frustrated noise. “Fine. What’s her name?”

 

Tony smiles, knowing that he’s about to surprise her; he rarely gets to do that, as well as she knows him. “His name is Bruce Banner.”

 

There’s a moment of silence, and Pepper says, “Well, I didn’t see that coming.”

 

“It’s not what you think,” Tony protests.

 

He can _hear_ Pepper’s disbelief.

 

“Okay, it’s not _just_ what you think,” Tony admits. “You’ll understand when you meet him, Pep.”

 

Pepper’s voice is soft when she says, “I’ll do what I can, Tony. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. It was really good to hear your voice.”

 

“Same here,” Tony agrees and hangs up.

 

On the off chance that Obadiah has bugged Pepper’s phone—and Tony has decided that he really can’t be _too_ paranoid at this point—Tony gets moving immediately. He’d debated staying in Quito or moving on, but he’s taken every precaution, and he doesn’t have a lot of extra cash since he hadn’t been able to stick around to collect his wages for the last week.

 

Tony will continue to take precautions, and move around a lot, and once he has an answer from the secret government agency, he’ll figure out his next step.

 

It’s anxiety as much as the desire not to go back to the motel room that has him wandering the city, past brightly painted houses and soaring church towers, the hills and mountains a constant backdrop.

 

He wishes Bruce were there with him. He feels strange without Bruce by his side, even though they’d only been together a month, maybe a little more. Tony thinks that maybe it had to do with how lonely he’d been until that point, and how Bruce was the first person in a long time who had been on anything like his level.

 

By the time he returns to the motel, Tony has walked for miles, and he’s exhausted enough to fall asleep immediately, only to wake gasping for air a few hours later, his sweat-soaked t-shirt sticking to his skin, the sheets tangled around his legs.

 

Tony rolls out of bed immediately, looking around the motel room, his heartbeat finally slowing as he realizes that he’s alone.

 

Obadiah isn’t here; there aren’t any thugs to hold him down and rip the arc reactor out of his chest. He isn’t dying; this isn’t Afghanistan.

 

Tony has had the same nightmare off and on over the last months, and once or twice when he’d shared a bed with Bruce.

 

Bruce had never said anything about Tony’s propensity for nightmares, although he’d usually managed to wake Tony up before it got really bad. Sometimes they had just lain in bed silently until Tony could relax enough to fall back to sleep. Other times, Bruce would start talking about chemical processes or gamma radiation, or how they might build a teleporter.

 

To that, Tony had said, “Handy for escape.”

 

“That’s kind of the idea,” Bruce had admitted. “We could go anywhere in the world with one of those.”

 

“We, huh?” Tony asked, and when Bruce had turned his head, he added, “I like the sound of that.”

 

Now, he looks at the empty bed and rubs his eyes, deciding that he doesn’t want to sleep again tonight, not here.

 

Tony packs up his few things, ensures his repulsors are in place, and sets out again. It’s early in the morning, so early the sun hasn’t yet risen, and the streets are quiet and mostly deserted.

 

The morning drags on, and Tony stays on the move, stopping occasionally to get a cup of coffee and take a break. This is about the time when he’d normally start looking for work, but he doesn’t plan on staying in Quito long. Either this plan works, and he’ll be heading back to the States, or it won’t, and he’ll leave town.

 

Tony ensures that he’s in a completely different area of the city than he was yesterday when he calls Pepper. He’s not surprised when she picks up on the first ring; Pepper has always been prompt.

 

“Hi, it’s me,” he says by way of greeting.

 

“I’m putting you on speaker phone,” Pepper warns him. “Agent Coulson is here with me.”

 

Tony is a little surprised at the quick response, and he says, “Okay.”

 

“Mr. Stark, I hear you want to come home.”

 

Tony recognizes the voice as belonging to the man who had approached him at the party, right before he’d had to run. “Me and a friend,” Tony replies.

 

Coulson hums noncommittally. “We’ve been gathering evidence on Obadiah Stane’s activities. With your testimony, we believe we can charge him with treason for selling arms to the enemy.”

 

Tony smiles, realizing that he has more leverage than he’d thought. “Then you need me.”

 

“I think we could get a conviction without you,” Coulson replies. “I’m not sure you understand what you’re asking.”

 

Tony frowns. “I think you have to ask yourself whether you want the Army to get their hands on him, and whether you want Obadiah to get his hands on what I have.”

 

There’s a pause, and for a moment, Tony thinks he’s going to have to hang up and go on the run again. “I’ll make the arrangements,” Coulson says quietly. “But you may change your mind when you have all the information.”

 

“No way,” Tony says decisively.

 

“We’ll see,” Coulson replies. “Let me make some arrangements. I can meet you the day after tomorrow.”

 

Tony hesitates, and then names the café from which he’d called Pepper the day before. “Noon sharp, and I won’t deal with anyone but you.”

 

“We’ll be there,” Coulson promises.

 

“If I see a bunch of guys with guns, I’m not sticking around,” Tony warns him.

 

Coulson sounds amused when he says, “I’m not bringing a bunch of guys with guns.”

 

“Okay, then,” Tony says.

 

There are some muffled sounds, and Pepper gets on. “Are you still okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” Tony assures her. “You?”

 

“Agent Coulson was kind enough to assign a couple of agents to me,” Pepper admits. “I’m safe.”

 

Tony breathes out a sigh of relief. “Then I guess I’ll see you soon.”

 

“Be careful,” Pepper replies, sounding anxious. “Obadiah _really_ wants you.”

 

“So I’ve heard,” Tony says, and hangs up with a sigh.

 

He has a couple of days to kill, and then he’s going home. And in two months, he’ll bring Bruce in with him.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony doesn’t bother arriving on time. He wants the chance to size things up as he approaches, and to be sure that Coulson holds up his end of the bargain.

 

He spots Coulson immediately; he’s sitting at a table in a black suit and sunglasses, a redheaded woman sitting next to him, dressed in slacks and a tailored blouse. A cautious look around showed no obvious muscle, although Tony’s pretty sure Coulson and the woman hadn’t come alone.

 

There’s a part of Tony that wants to turn around and walk away right now. If Coulson’s organization is working on a way to take down Obadiah, Tony just has to lay low until they manage it.

 

But if he walks away, Bruce loses his chance to get the Army off his back, and Tony loses Bruce.

 

The risk is worth it.

 

Tony approaches from the side and plops down in one of the empty seats across from Coulson. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

 

Coulson smiles. “No, you’re not.”

 

Tony shrugs. “I’m not.” He gives the woman a sharp look. She looks to be in her early thirties at the most, and she’s watching him with a cool gaze. “Who’s your friend?”

 

“This is Agent Romanoff,” Coulson says. “Agent Romanoff, Tony Stark.”

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Her eyes flicker, clearly taking in his less than put together appearance.

 

Tony knows what she’s seeing—worn, grimy jeans, faded button down, canvas jacket that’s fraying at the collar and the cuffs, and the heavy beard he’s cultivated over the last few months. He looks rough, and like he’s maybe a step away from sleeping on the streets, which isn’t too far from the truth if he doesn’t get his hands on some more cash soon.

 

“So, let’s talk logistics,” Tony says, wanting to get the ink signed on the deal.

 

“Let’s talk information,” Coulson counters. “What are you going to do with Dr. Banner once you get him back to the States?”

 

Tony considers telling him that he plans on fucking him thoroughly, and then letting Bruce fuck him, but he resists the urge, knowing that he can’t afford to alienate Coulson until he has a deal. “Honestly? I’ll put him to work. The man’s talents are going to waste.”

 

“How did you two meet?” Coulson asks with a pleasant smile.

 

“Chance encounter in a café,” Tony replies, not wanting to give anything away. “What does that have to do with anything?”

 

Romanoff raises her eyebrows. “Then you don’t know.”

 

“Know what?” Tony demands, trying to keep his voice down.

 

Coulson nods, and Romanoff pulls out a laptop, turning the screen so that it faces him, and hits play.

 

Tony isn’t immediately sure what he’s looking at, but it appears to be a lab of some kind, and then someone moves the camera, and he recognizes Bruce, who’s strapped to a padded chair. There’s no sound, but Bruce’s smile is relaxed, even a little cocky, and Tony leans forward with interest. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen that expression on Bruce’s face.

 

It’s definitely an experiment of some kind, but Tony can’t tell anything else, and he watches in fascination, because this is a side of Bruce he’s never seen.

 

And because he misses Bruce, and it’s great to see him, even if he can’t reach out and touch him.

 

Suddenly, everything goes to hell in the video. Bruce arches in his chair, his body going stiff, a vein popping out on his forehead, his mouth wide open in what looks like a scream. His skin begins to turn green, and his muscles bunch and swell, bursting the seams in his clothing.

 

Bruce breaks out of the chair and smashes it, and one of the pieces flies across the room and hits the camera, and the screen goes fuzzy.

 

Tony closes the laptop, his mind racing, putting the pieces together—little things that Bruce had let drop, his so-called medical condition, the Army chasing him. “Bruce is the weapon the Army wants.”

 

“Very good,” Coulson says. “He’s a powder keg waiting to blow, Mr. Stark. If he stubs his toe, he could take out everything around him.”

 

“I don’t care,” Tony replies with some heat. “We’ll deal with it.”

 

“He could kill you,” Romanoff says.

 

Tony shrugs carelessly. “But he doesn’t want to, which is more than I can say for some people, and I don’t think we want that kind of power in the hands of the Army. Do you?”

 

“And nothing I can say will dissuade you?” Coulson asks.

 

Tony feels the anger rise up, sharp and hot. “I don’t fucking leave my friends behind. We’re a package deal. It’s both of us, or neither of us.”

 

He’s remembering Yinsen’s bloody body. Tony isn’t about to lose another person who’s important to him.

 

“Very well,” Coulson says. “I’ll make the arrangements. Where can we pick Dr. Banner up?”

 

Tony shakes his head. “No. No way. I’ll pick him up at a place and time of our choosing. First, we get this mess with my company straightened out.”

 

For a moment, Tony’s afraid Coulson’s going to refuse, but then he shrugs. “If that’s how you want to play it.”

 

“That’s how it has to be,” Tony says. “Besides, from what you’ve said, I don’t think you want Bruce to get too excited. I can handle retrieval.”

 

“He may have a point,” Romanoff observes, and there’s the hint of a smile on her face.

 

Coulson gives her a sideways look. “You just don’t want to be the one to bring him in.”

 

Romanoff shrugs.

 

“You have a deal, Mr. Stark,” Coulson says after a moment. “We’ll need to keep you in protective custody while we debrief you, and until we can bring Stane in, but I think you’ll be comfortable.”

 

Tony doubts it, but he can’t argue. He’s one step closer to the end game. “As long as there are no bedbugs, I can handle it.”

 

Coulson almost smiles. “Oh, I think we can guarantee that much.”

 

~~~~~

 

Tony’s in SHIELD custody for a week before they let him see Pepper. He’s not exactly a prisoner—he has a cell phone and a laptop, and the apartment in New York is small, but no smaller than the places he’d been staying for the last few months.

 

But there’s always a SHIELD agent with him—most often Romanoff, but she switches off with a couple of others whose names he doesn’t bother learning—and he’s discouraged from leaving.

 

“So, you’re saying I’m stuck here?” Tony had asked Coulson when the terms were explained to him.

 

“I’m saying that until we can finalize the case against Stane, it would be wise for you not to leave,” Coulson had replied. “If Stane finds out you’re back in the U.S., he could get a court order to have the arc reactor removed.”

 

Since that’s exactly what Tony’s afraid of, he decides to follow instructions just this once, using the laptop to start plans for the next iteration of the suit.

 

When he’s got his company back, he’ll have his suit back, too. He’s got a lot of messes to clean up from Obadiah’s reign.

 

In between making plans for the suit and being debriefed, Tony finds everything he can on one Dr. Bruce Banner.

 

He feels a little weird about it, because he finds a lot of information, and some of it is probably stuff Bruce would never have told him if given a choice, but Tony can’t help himself.

 

This is _Bruce_ ; Tony wants to know _everything_.

 

He finds Bruce’s dissertation, and all of his published scientific papers. Tony finds the story about how Bruce’s father killed his mother, and was committed to a secure psychiatric facility. He has Bruce’s medical records and his sealed juvie record at his fingertips, although he glances at the former and doesn’t read the latter.

 

Tony’s curious, but he plans on seeing Bruce again, and he figures Bruce can fill him in if he decides to do so at some later date.

 

A man has to have some secrets, and Bruce seems to have a few more than most.

 

He contents himself with reading Bruce’s papers and making notes on how they might build a transporter, a list of toys that a nuclear physicist might need, and ways to ensure that a stubbed toe doesn’t take down the mansion in Malibu.

 

It’s all about engineering, and Tony’s good at that.

 

But the problem is that he has a lot of time to think, and he’s beginning to wonder if maybe it was just a flash in the pan, a brief interlude. He’s counting down the days, but maybe Bruce is planning on running forever. Because Bruce hadn’t trusted him with the big green guy, and so it’s possible that he’s not going to trust Tony enough to show up at the specified location.

 

He might be going a little crazy when Pepper shows up, strawberry blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, looking casual in jeans and a t-shirt.

 

“Tony,” she says, pushing past the agent who had answered the door.

 

He’s surprised when she hugs him, but not displeased. He holds on tightly, just for a minute, and then says, “I thought Agent Coulson didn’t want me to have visitors.”

 

“They arrested Obadiah this morning,” Pepper replies quietly, pulling back so she can look him in the eye. “It’s all coming out, including the fact that he was the one who tried to have you killed in Afghanistan.”

 

That shouldn’t surprise Tony, but he still takes a step back, wondering how on earth he could have been so stupid.

 

“How did you find out?” he asks.

 

Pepper shrugs. “He went to Afghanistan a couple of times, and I might have bugged his computer when SHIELD realized that he was selling weapons to a terrorist organization.”

 

Tony can’t quite believe it. “How—”

 

“I went to beg for a job,” Pepper replies, lifting her chin with a smug smile. “He bought it hook, line, and sinker.”

 

“God, Pep,” Tony says, shaking his head. “You did that for me?”

 

“Well, I _did_ want my old job back,” she admits. “But I had to get you back to do it, and the only way that was going to happen is if we got the dirt on Obadiah.”

 

But she’s smiling, and Tony can see that her eyes are a little moist, so he knows she’d done it for him, too.

 

“But look at you,” Pepper says, rubbing her hand over Tony’s short hair. “What is this?”

 

He hasn’t bothered shaving the beard off yet and he’s kept his hair buzzed off, mostly because he doesn’t entirely trust SHIELD to get the job done, and if he has to run again, he doesn’t want to take the time to build up his disguise.

 

“I’m trying a new look,” Tony says lightly. “What do you think?”

 

“I think I like the old look better,” Pepper replies. “But it’s good to see you.”

 

“You too,” Tony says sincerely. “You want something to eat? I don’t have anything in the fridge, but we could order in.”

 

“I already took the liberty,” Pepper replies. “Phil said I could order pizza.”

 

Tony gives her a sharp look. “What is it with you and Agent Coulson?”

 

Pepper blushes slightly. “We’ve been working together quite a bit on the case against Obadiah—and we might have had coffee a couple of times. How are you holding up?”

 

Tony shrugs. “Just doing my research. Come and sit.”

 

“I do get my old job back, right?” Pepper asks with a smile.

 

“Are you kidding?” Tony asks. “I might be okay without you while I’m on the run, but I can’t run Stark Industries without you.”

 

Pepper smiles, her eyes bright. “And when do I get to meet this mysterious Dr. Banner?”

 

Tony shakes his head. “I don’t know. In a couple of months, I hope.”

 

“You don’t have a way to get in touch with him?” Pepper asks.

 

Tony shakes his head. “It was safer that way. I’ll meet up with him. Once he sees the news, maybe he’ll believe I can keep him safe, too.”

 

Pepper touches his arm. “I’m sure it will be fine, Tony.”

 

But Tony’s beginning to have his doubts. He’s not sure Bruce will show up at all, or if he’ll trust Tony enough.

 

For the first time in his life, Tony wants a relationship that lasts, and he has no idea if he’ll be able to have it.

 

~~~~~

 

The next month and a half is incredibly busy. Tony would say that he doesn’t have time to miss Bruce, but that’s not true.

 

He still misses Bruce, even when he’s hip-deep in paperwork, or plans to take the company forward without making weapons, or schematics for his new suit.

 

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, and Tony is beginning to see why.

 

He tries to put it out of his mind, though, because they have a date, and a plan, and he’s sticking to that plan. If Bruce is smart, and Tony knows that he is, he’ll have disappeared as soon as Tony had left Bogotá, and he won’t show up again until they’re due to meet in Rio.

 

And yeah, Tony could probably put his considerable resources to work to find Bruce, but he won’t. He wants Bruce to come to him.

 

Besides, if Bruce wants to come back to the U.S., it would be easy enough to find Tony, considering the tabloids are tracking his every movement.

 

He tells himself that maybe it’s a good thing Bruce isn’t around to serve as a distraction. He has a lot to set to rights, after all.

 

Miles to go, and all that jazz.

 

Still, Tony finds himself counting down the days, mentally crossing each one off the calendar.

 

The week before he’s due to meet Bruce in Rio, he tells Pepper that he’s going to be out of town for a few days, and he needs her to clear his schedule.

 

“Is this about Dr. Banner?” Pepper asks.

 

Tony shrugs. “Here’s hoping.”

 

“Do you want me to get the guest room ready?” Pepper asks.

 

Tony shakes his head. “No. Either he’ll be staying with me, or he won’t.”

 

Pepper offers a sympathetic smile. “I think I can hold down the fort for a few days, but probably no more than that.”

 

“Thanks,” Tony says sincerely. “For everything.”

 

“It’s my job,” Pepper replies, but Tony knows what she’s not saying—that she’s glad to have him back, and wants to keep him there. “And good luck.”

 

Tony calls Coulson the day before he leaves, saying, “I’m bringing Dr. Banner back with me if at all possible. I need to know he’ll be safe.”

 

“I keep my word, Mr. Stark,” Coulson replies. “The Army won’t be bothering Dr. Banner.”

 

Tony rubs his jaw, feeling the prickle of stubble. He’s been letting his hair grow out, but he hasn’t shaved for the last few days, hoping that he can fly under the radar again, and that Bruce will feel more comfortable approaching him if he’s not immediately recognizable.

 

“Thanks,” he says briefly. “How’s Obadiah?”

 

“He’s not giving anything up,” Coulson replies. “But he won’t be seeing the light of day any time soon.”

 

Tony breathes out a sigh of relief, finding that fact strangely comforting. “Okay. Thanks.”

 

His desire to keep his presence a secret doesn’t extend to his accommodations, however, and he gets a nice suite in a luxury hotel and pays for five nights. That might be a little hopeful, or maybe too presumptuous, but even if Bruce doesn’t come back home with him, he might enjoy a few nights in a nice bed.

 

Tony wants to wine and dine Bruce, even though he knows Bruce well enough to understand that Bruce doesn’t care about Tony’s money.

 

It’s one of the things that Tony likes about him, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to show Bruce a good time—assuming Bruce shows up.

 

Tony doesn’t sleep well that night, and he finally gets up around dawn to work on a couple of projects. While he’s not planning on running again, he wants to be prepared—or maybe he wants to help Bruce out if he decides not to come in.

 

They’re due to meet at the Travessa do Comércioaround happy hour, outside of a little bar Tony had been to in the past. Tony had known it would be crowded, and a couple of Americans won’t be out of place.

 

The sun is setting, but the streetlights and the lights from the bars and shops illuminated the street well enough. Tony sips his drink and keeps a sharp eye out for Bruce.

 

Spring in Rio is comfortably temperate, and a breeze teases his collar. The appointed hour comes and goes, and Tony orders another drink. He’s not surprised Bruce isn’t on time, having used the same trick, and Bruce is a cautious man.

 

Tony freezes with his glass halfway to his mouth as he spots a familiar figure about ten yards away. He can’t quite see Bruce’s expression, what with the distance and with the way the shadows fall.

 

He takes another sip, glancing around, and then watches as Bruce takes a few steps toward him, and the light illuminates him, and now Tony can see the emotions that flicker across his face—pleasure, uncertainty, and then resolution.

 

Tony’s breath catches as Bruce remains where he is, motionless, and he realizes it’s entirely possible that Bruce had come just to see Tony, and then disappear again. He bites down on the urge to call out to Bruce, because he needs Bruce to trust him, and for that, Bruce needs to know that Tony will let him go if that’s what Bruce wants.

 

He finishes his drink and he waits.

 

And then Bruce moves towards him, dodging the people on the street, his progress slow but steady, cautious as always.

 

Tony realizes that he’s been holding his breath when Bruce stops next to his table. “Mind if I sit here?”

 

“Be my guest,” Tony replies, resisting the urge to haul him in close. “Can I buy you a drink?”

 

Bruce shrugs. “I’d take a beer.”

 

“I’ll be right back,” Tony promises, and forces himself to go inside to order for both of them, even though he doesn’t want to let Bruce out of his sight.

 

Bruce is still there when Tony returns, though, looking around at the crowds of people with interest. He accepts the beer Tony offers and takes a sip. “You made quite the sensation.”

 

“It’s been a busy couple of months,” Tony admits.

 

“Too busy to miss me?” he asks.

 

Tony shakes his head. “I don’t think I’ll ever be too busy for that.” He pauses. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

 

“Two months is too long,” Bruce replies, echoing his words from months ago.

 

Tony smiles and stares down at his drink. “I made the deal. They’re going to keep the Army off your back.”

 

“What did you have to promise them?” Bruce asks, his voice low and tense.

 

Tony turns his glass, running a finger around the rim. “I gave them everything I had on Obadiah, which I would have done anyway.”

 

“What else?” Bruce asks suspiciously.

 

“And I’m consulting and waiving my fee, which I also would have done anyway,” Tony replies. “I’ve got a few new toys in development, communications and defense, that sort of thing. I’d have done a lot more.”

 

He leaves the “for you” unspoken.

 

Bruce shakes his head. “I’m sure they told you what I am.”

 

“Agent Coulson showed me footage from the lab,” Tony admits. “So, yeah.”

 

Bruce nods. “Then you know why I can’t come back with you.”

 

Tony wants to protest, but this isn’t the time or the place. “Why don’t we take this somewhere else? I’ve got a hotel room not too far away.”

 

Bruce raises an eyebrow, like he knows it’s not over, and he lifts his bottle in a silent toast, drinking the rest of his beer. “Why not?”

 

Tony could have called a taxi, but instead they walk back to his hotel. He hasn’t walked anywhere in months, but it feels good to be with Bruce again, their elbows and shoulders brushing on occasion.

 

Bruce looks up at the grand façade as they approach, and he rolls his eyes. “Of course.”

 

“Hey, I figured we could at least be comfortable,” Tony protests. “We can order room service and raid the mini-bar. It’s a king-size bed.”

 

Bruce shrugs. “Yeah, why not?”

 

Tony’s room is on the top floor, and he unlocks the door with his key card. “Come on in.”

 

Bruce wanders inside and over to the large windows, overlooking the brightly lit city. “Do you know what I did?”

 

“Coulson filled me in,” Tony admits. “He tried to tell me you were dangerous.”

 

“I am.” Bruce turns to face him. “You don’t want me around.”

 

Tony rummages around in the mini-bar. “If I didn’t want you around, or if Coulson had managed to scare me off, I wouldn’t be here now. I _could_ be in Malibu, in my very comfortable house, or in my workshop. I could have just not come, and you probably would have chalked it up to me being freaked out about your ‘medical condition.’”

 

Bruce’s grimace suggests that Tony has landed upon the truth, and he stares down at the floor. “Now that you know how dangerous I am, you shouldn’t want me around.”

 

“And yet, I do,” Tony counters. “Bruce, come on. Look at me.” When he does, Tony continues. “You’re dangerous here, too, among people you don’t know, but if something happens, if you take down a building or a house or anything else, you’ll be hurting people you don’t know, who don’t know you, and who probably don’t have the means to rebuild.”

 

It’s something of a low blow, but Tony has never pretended to be a saint, and he’s not about to pull his punches.

 

Bruce’s lips tighten. “Thanks for the reminder,” he says bitterly.

 

“It’s the truth,” Tony counters. “And the other part of the truth is that you could come back with me, and we could work together to find a solution to your problem, whether that’s a cure or whether it’s just control. We can minimize triggers. And if something does go wrong, we rebuild and start again.”

 

Bruce’s hands are clenched tightly into fists. “You can’t rebuild your body. If you’re hurt—”

 

“I have a suit of armor.”

 

Bruce blinks. “What?”

 

“I have a suit of armor,” Tony reiterates. “I can show you. I’m pretty sure it can take a beating if you go green. I’m working on finding a way to get into it faster, but with a little warning, I’ll be a lot harder to damage than anybody else. Or I could build you a room that’s strong enough to let you blow off some steam. Give me a little more time, a few more parameters, and I can probably come up with another couple of solutions.”

 

Bruce’s shoulders slump, and he stares at Tony, looking rather bewildered. “Why? You could have anybody.”

 

“And I probably have,” Tony admits candidly. “But I want _you_.”

 

Bruce stares at him, blinking rapidly, and Tony blurts out, “You didn’t think I’d come back.”

 

“No,” Bruce says softly. “I thought you’d have more sense than that.”

 

“Have you met me?” Tony teases. “Hey, we have a few days, maybe a week, depending on when Pepper starts bugging me to come back. You can take your time deciding. We’ll just—be together.”

 

Bruce shakes his head, his expression rueful. “I don’t need time.”

 

Tony swallows his disappointment. “No? I wasn’t even a little bit persuasive?”

 

“I mean yes,” Bruce replies, and then he closes the distance between them, his footsteps muffled in the plush carpet. “I’m pretty sure it was always going to be yes.”

 

And then his hands are framing Tony’s face with a tenderness that is even more impressive, knowing just how much strength Bruce has at his command, and his kiss is tentative, gentle, and warm.

 

To Tony, it feels as though Bruce is asking a question, and his reply is to open his mouth, his tongue tangling with Bruce’s, beginning to unbutton Bruce’s shirt.

 

When they break off the kiss of mutual accord, Bruce’s shirt is half-off, and he has his hands under Tony’s polo, and they’re both breathing heavily. Tony presses his forehead against Bruce’s, their noses touching.

 

“I hope you have supplies,” Bruce murmurs, turning his head so he can press his face against the side of Tony’s neck.

 

Tony laughs. “Yeah, I do. I guess I was feeling lucky.”

 

And he feels Bruce grin against his skin and figures they’re both lucky bastards. 


End file.
